


maybe time is telling us to heal

by ThunderstormsandMemories



Category: The Penumbra Podcast
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Courtroom Drama, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, M/M, Non-Graphic Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-19
Updated: 2017-04-19
Packaged: 2018-10-20 21:19:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10670982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThunderstormsandMemories/pseuds/ThunderstormsandMemories
Summary: “Look,” Rita said, gesturing excitedly at the small print of the police blotter section of the Hyperion Daily website. “That Agent Glass just got himself arrested.” And sure enough, next to the small print was a grainy mugshot that absolutely did not do him justice, but it was enough to be recognizable: the knowing smirk, the raised eyebrows, those eyes… It was Nureyev, all right, and Juno wished he hadn’t set down his drink.or,in which Peter Nureyev returns to Mars and promptly gets arrested, which wouldn't be that big of a deal until Juno decides to get involved, accidentally leading to several conversations about feelings and an unexpected happy ending





	maybe time is telling us to heal

**Author's Note:**

> This was mostly written before Season 2 started and diverges from canon prior to/instead of Kitty Cat Caper and may or may not be compliant with 2 Mask 2 Murderous either. Any inconsistencies with canon timelines and facts are because I messed up but let's pretend it's artistic license instead.

“Mister Steel, you won’t believe what I just saw on the news.”

Juno sighed, set down his drink and the case file he had been staring at for at least an hour now with no results, and said, “What is it now, Rita?”

“No, you gotta see this for yourself, boss,” Rita said. “It’s important.”

He stood, grumbling, heard his back pop as he stretched—maybe Rita had been right, each of the half dozen times she’d told him to take a break or at least fix his posture—and made his way to her desk. “What?”

“Look,” she said, gesturing excitedly at the small print of the police blotter section of the Hyperion Daily website. “That Agent Glass just got himself arrested.” And sure enough, next to the small print was a grainy mugshot that absolutely did not do him justice, but it was enough to be recognizable: the knowing smirk, the raised eyebrows, those eyes… It was Nureyev, all right, and Juno wished he hadn’t set down his drink.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” he said. “What’s he doing on Mars?”

“Getting arrested, it looks like,” Rita said. “Wow, look at that list of charges. I wonder if they’ll ask us to testify. Boss, what are you doing? Boss?”

Juno had already grabbed his coat and was halfway out the door before he remembered to say, “Take the rest of the day off, Rita. I’m not sure when I’ll be back.”

“But where are you going-” The rest of her question was cut off by the closing door, and anyway, Juno didn’t want to stop to answer questions, from Rita or from the small rational part of his mind that wondered what the fuck he thought he was doing.

\---

The desk sergeant didn’t want to let him in, and he probably wouldn’t be able to call in any favors from the HCPD for a long time, but Juno either didn’t care or wasn’t thinking clearly. Or both.

“Juno, hello,” Nureyev said. “That’s a good look for you, the eyepatch. Very dashing, a little dangerous. A lady with scars, secrets, or maybe a little bit of both.”

Juno pretended not to hear him, afraid of letting a little bit of flirting distract him. “What are you doing here?” he said, more forcefully than he meant to.

“Not much, evidently,” said Nureyev, flippant as ever, somehow managing to lounge in his uncomfortable prison folding chair despite being handcuffed to the table. “More to the point, Juno, is what _you’re_ doing here.”

“Me? What? I live here.”

“Not here, surely. Or have you been living a double life of crime that I know nothing about?”

“Here as in this city,” Juno said, in no mood for Nureyev’s apparent allergy to giving direct answers. “I didn’t think you’d come back to Mars, let alone Hyperion.”

“Neither did I,” Nureyev said, sounding unusually sincere and almost sad. Or maybe he was just tired, and Juno was a fool. He shouldn’t have come here. What was the point of doing this, to either of them? It was just reopening a wound that he had never allowed to heal in the first place.

“Then why…”

Nureyev shrugged. “There was a job, and I took it. And before you ask, yes, I had other options. Yes, I could have gone anywhere in the galaxy. Yes, I know that it’s generally a bad idea to return to the scene of a previous crime, especially so soon. So why did I do it? I suppose I couldn’t resist, anymore than I could when I was here,” he looked up at the security camera pointedly, as if reminding both himself and Juno that this wasn’t a private conversation, “last time.”

“That was before, well, you know,” Juno said, keeping his voice low enough that he wouldn’t be overheard, “before.” _Before you told me you loved me and I left you without saying goodbye_. He didn’t say it out loud. He was pretty sure Nureyev remembered that night, and the next morning. Juno was never going to forget anyway, and no matter how much he drank he couldn’t blur the edges of the memories enough to make them stop hurting. “Don’t you hate me? Is that it, are you here to gloat, to see just how miserable I am, how much of a complete disaster I’ve made of my life?”

“I’m sure that’s not true,” said Nureyev generously, gallantly, almost genuinely, and Juno couldn’t look at him, couldn’t do anything but stare at Nureyev’s hands and wait for the verbal evisceration that Nureyev surely owed him. “I’m sure you’re doing valuable work, protecting a city that doesn’t appreciate just how much you do for it. Taking arms against the sea of troubles that the big mean world throws at you. I’ve always admired you for that, you know.” There was an edge to his voice, a tightness that might almost be anger, if his eyes didn’t look so sad.

“But why don’t you hate me?” Juno said, still unable to look up from his hands.

“Did you hate _me_ ,” Nureyev said, “when I left? When I lied to you, tricked you, stole your heart and then slipped away into the night like a, well, a thief.” He half-laughed, showing his teeth, and it sent a shiver down Juno’s spine.

“I did call the police on you,” Juno pointed out.

“You did,” Nureyev conceded. “But I would have left anyway. And you still haven’t answered my question, my dear Juno. Did you hate me then?”

“No,” Juno said. “I wanted to. It would have made everything so much easier. But I couldn’t.”

“And why is that?”

“Why does it matter?” said Juno, who knew exactly what Nureyev was trying to do and didn’t want to face the truth.

“Please, Juno,” Nureyev said. “Humor me.”

“Fine,” Juno said. “Because I love you. And because I know why you couldn’t stay. Happy now?”

“Ecstatic,” Nureyev said. “And there’s your answer. I love you, and I understand. That doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt.”

A buzzer sounded from within the depth of precinct, and just like that the vulnerability on Nureyev’s face and in his voice was gone, replaced by the mask of charm. “Well, there’s your cue, detective.”

“Wait,” Juno said. “You still haven’t told me…” He paused, not sure what he meant to ask. _Where you’ve been all this time. The real reason you’re here. What you have planned. What I’m supposed to do. How I can get you to forgive me. If I’ll ever be able to forgive myself_.

“Until next time, detective,” Nureyev said, and Juno could’ve sworn he saw him wink.

\---

The Hyperion City Courthouse was an unnecessarily imposing building, in Juno’s opinion, and he didn’t like to spend any more time there than he absolutely had to. The old courthouse had fit in with the surrounding buildings, just one more crooked facade, worn smooth by years of sandstorms and grey from years of soot and corruption that could never be fully washed away, casting deep shadows across the narrow streets. This was the heart of the city, dirty and busy and, somehow, strangely beautiful. The new courthouse was none of that: flashy and bright and too damn tall, and Juno would have distrusted on principle, because it was new, but since it was both a product and a symbol of the new kind of politician, the ambitious ones who thought _cleaning up_ meant _tearing down_ , Juno hated it. And yet here he was, having woken up before the sun had risen into the dirty sepia sky and made three cups of Rita’s strongest and most disgusting coffee.

They had asked him to act as a witness, as Rita thought they might, since he was the one who turned Rex Glass over to the police the first time. Of course (as Rita had been reminding him ever since he’d received the summons) he had enough enemies in Hyperion City that he needed to be careful not to incriminate himself, given his somewhat less than straightforward history with Nureyev.

The proceedings were about standard for Hyperion City, which meant that the judge was crooked, the jury was rigged, the lawyers were both incompetent and ruthless, and the audience was there to be entertained. At least someone had done enough research to determine that Rex Glass was not, in fact, Nureyev’s real name, but no one had managed to even uncover any of his other alibis, and when the prosecuting attorney had asked him, as she’d asked each of the witnesses, if he knew his real name, Juno had shrugged. “As far as I knew, his name was Rex Glass.”

Nureyev was too smart to show relief at that, but Juno watched him closely just the same, just to see if he relaxed at all, or if he had enough faith left in Juno to know he wouldn’t ruin him so completely.

For the most part, Juno’s testimony was boring, forgettable. He didn’t tell the prosecution anything they didn’t already know, paraphrased what he’d said in the initial police report without making it too suspiciously similar. He wondered if Nureyev really was as calm as he appeared, or he was worried about that Juno would take everything he knew about Nureyev, everything that no one else in the galaxy knew, and use it to destroy him. He hoped Nureyev trusted him more than that, but then again, if Nureyev distrusted him, Juno had brought that on himself.

What he wanted to say was that while Nureyev had done everything they said he did and more, Juno had helped him do some of it, and Nureyev had helped him save the entire planet, which should count for something. And besides, not that the law or the people in power in Hyperion City would care, he was really a far better person than he had any right to be, and feelings weren’t admissible as evidence, but it was incredibly tempting to make a declaration of love instead of continuing to play along with the prosecution. He didn’t doubt that Nureyev had a plan, but after all that had happened, he didn’t want him to think that he was just going to leave him to either escape on his own or rot in prison. The latter was unlikely, since Juno doubted there was a locked door in the galaxy that could stop Nureyev, but it was the thought that counted. He may have left but that didn’t mean he could stop caring, as if not loving someone anymore was as easy as closing a window.

The guilty verdict wasn’t a surprise, nor was Nureyev’s complete lack of visible surprise or concern as he was led away.

Juno stood up. “Wait.”

Everyone was staring at him, and the fact that this was the plan but that didn’t stop it from being embarrassing. If he looked at Nureyev, who was probably laughing at him, giving him that look that said, _Juno, darling, what the actual fuck are you thinking_ , he thought he might pass out from the sheer weight of how embarrassed he was. Whatever. This was the plan, and as objectively terrible as it might be, it was what he had, and he was going to go through with it. _Hey, everyone. Look at me. Look at Juno Steel, the poor excuse for a former P.I., making another bad life decision. Won’t this be fun to tell your co-workers about?_

Nureyev’s hands were cuffed in front of him, which was the HCPD’s first mistake. Well, their first mistake had been thinking they could hold Nureyev at all, and that was if you only started keeping track today, because the HCPD had made a lot of mistakes over the years that Juno didn’t have time to list right now.

He pulled him down by the collar and kissed him, and somehow Nureyev hadn’t seen that one coming because it took him a few seconds to start kissing back, but once he did it was like getting caught out in a sandstorm: took your breath away, made your heart race, and cut to center of who you were until all of your bones and vulnerabilities lay exposed. “Juno, what are you-”

“Plasma cutter, left jacket pocket.”

“Juno-” He cut him off with another kiss, before anyone started to get suspicious, because this was the plan, and not because he wanted to, not because he was drunk on Nureyev’s cologne or because this might be the last chance he ever got or because kissing him felt like all the scrambled pieces of the world were falling into place. Well. Maybe it was, just a little bit.

When they broke apart, Juno was breathless and dazed and weak-kneed, and Nureyev already had his hands free ( _you really played yourself there, Steel, way to go_ ) and he was halfway to the door before Juno even thought to move and then thought against it.

Nureyev stopped, and he was giving Juno that look again, the one that said, _let’s run away together_ , and Juno shook his head just enough that Nureyev would notice but hopefully no one else.

Nureyev rolled his eyes and sighed, and then he lunged back toward Juno, grabbed his wrist, and pulled him out the door. He took the gun from the guard on the way out, and Juno punched them in the face for good measure, because by now there was no chance he wouldn’t be considered an accomplice, and you might as well earn your arrest warrant.

Juno was out of breath by the time they reached the top of the stairs, and their pursuers were close behind, taking wild shots that ricocheted against the walls and left charred blaster marks in their wake. If he had a gun, and also his other eye, he could’ve fired back, but as it was, all he could do was run, let Nureyev take a shot that went wide before shoving him through the door.

“That was close.”

“A little too close,” said Nureyev, examining a hole that had been burned into his shirt during the last round of gunfire. “ I had a plan, you know. A slightly less risky one, I might add.  Now help me barricade this door so I can call our ride.”

“Damn it, did they hit you?”

“Barely a scratch,” he said, waving one hand airily, the other still pressed against his side. “I’ve had worse.”

Someone banged on the door behind them, and Juno jumped. “How long do we have?”

“Before they get through the door? However long it takes for them to realize the door is barred, and then delegate someone to go back downstairs for the higher grade laser cutters, and then for that person to fill out the right paperwork to requisition the thing, and who knows how much other red tape, just so they can break down a door.”

“I meant, how long until your ride gets here,” Juno said. “I know how bureaucracy works, thanks.”

“Shouldn’t be too long,” Nureyev said, fiddling with something that looked like a cross between a TV remote and a car key. “And I’m sure you meant to say ‘our ride.’”

“Yeah, sure,” said Juno, unconvincingly. “That’s what I meant.”

“ _Juno_ ,” Nureyev said. “I’m not leaving you here.”

“Why not?”

“We’ve been over this, Juno,” he said impatiently. “Besides, if you want to be cynical about it, you did just rescue me, as unnecessary as it was, since you know full well I can escape from anywhere. So, if you don’t want to believe in love and hope and all those lovely noble emotions, we can put it in these terms: you helped me, I owe you. Now get in the car.” As he spoke, a car pulled up on the roof next to them, apparently without anyone in the driver’s seat, a car that was sleek and shiny and suspiciously familiar.

“Is that the Ruby 7?” Juno said. “How did you even… you know what, never mind. Don’t answer that.”

“I wasn’t going to,” said Nureyev smugly, holding open the door for him, “but if you really want to know…”

“I really think I don’t,” Juno said, getting in anyway. “Hold up. This is the driver’s side.”

“How perceptive of you,” said Nureyev, and was it just Juno’s imagination, or was his voice getting fainter and more strained? “Are you going to start driving, or should we just sit here until they break down that door? I can see the headlines now: city’s worst attempted prison break ever foiled by poorly timed lover’s spat.”

“I-”

“You _do_ know how to drive, I assume?”

“I…” He looked from the wheel to the clutch to the series of incomprehensible lights and dials. “I’m sure I can figure it out.” He threw it into gear and stepped on the pedal that he hoped was the gas, and when Nureyev didn’t respond, he said, “Hey, listen, I’m doing my best. I can drive _cars_ , not whatever the hell this thing is.” When Nureyev still didn’t respond, Juno looked over at him, only to see that he was slumped over in the passenger seat, and the hand pressed to his side wasn’t enough to hide the blood spilling out onto the expensive leather seats of the Ruby 7. “Just… hold on, okay? Okay? Nureyev? Peter?” There was no answer. “Peter!”

Fuck.

Juno pushed the gas pedal as far down as it would go, his hands painfully tight on the steering wheel, trying to watch for obstacles or pursuit vehicles instead of watching Nureyev bleed out next to him.

\--

“Juno?” Juno looked up from his drink to see Nureyev watching him, while trying and failing to prop himself up on his elbows. “Juno, why did you take me back to your apartment? I thought we were on the run.”

“We are,” Juno said, making his way over to Nureyev’s bedside. “We’re laying low here for a while, since this was the first place they searched, and since it’s been so long they’ll expect us to be off-world by now. Besides, if they do decide to check again, Rita’s tapped into the HCPD communication system so she can give us plenty of warning.” He pulled his hand back before he could do something sappy like smoothing back Nureyev’s hair. “We’re safe. Lay down, you’ll reopen that wound.”

Nureyev’s hand went to his side, where Juno had dressed and bandaged his injury to the best of his ability. He’d done a pretty good, he thought, or at least an effective job. He’d had plenty of opportunity to practice, though usually his subject was himself. “Thank you,” Nureyev said, quietly.

“No problem,” Juno said. “It was the least I could do, really. Don’t mention it.”

“ _Juno_ ,” Nureyev said.

“What is it?”

“We need to talk.”

“Do we?” Juno said, retreating from Nureyev’s bedside to retrieve his chair and his drink. “Can’t we just… you just got shot. You should be resting. We don’t have to do this. You can stay here as long as it takes for you to recover and for spaceport security to go back to normal, and then you can leave and we’ll pretend this never happened and everything will go back to normal.”

“Is that what you want?” Nureyev said.

“Isn’t that want you want?” said Juno, bitterly even though he knew he was being unfair. It wasn’t Nureyev he was mad at.

“I didn’t ask you what you thought I wanted,” Nureyev said. “Right now, I just want you to answer the question.”

“No,” Juno said, not meeting Nureyev’s gaze. “That’s not what I want.” And then, after another long pause, “I didn’t want to leave.”  
“And I didn’t want you to,” Nureyev said. “And yet here we are. Funny how that happened.”

“Funny,” Juno echoed. He took another long sip of cheap whiskey to avoid having to speak, and then finally gathered up the courage to say, “I know you said you don’t hate me but… aren’t you angry?”

“Juno, you broke my heart,” Nureyev said. “Yes, I’m angry. I’m trying not to take it out on you because I know you already think everything is your fault, and I refuse to help you justify that belief and feed your sense of righteous self-loathing.”

“Hey, now,” Juno said.

Nureyev raised one eyebrow. “Am I wrong?”

“No, but…”

Nureyev sighed. “Anyway, I just thought… I know why you left. It’s the same reason I couldn’t stay the first time, so trust me when I say I understand the impulse. But because of you, because of how I felt about you, I fought against it so that I could stay with you. I was trying, because I wanted us to work. I guess I just thought that you did too.” He shook his head. “That’s not fair. I meant, I expected too much, projected too much of myself onto you. I thought you could learn to stay if I could, and I forgot that just because I was ready didn’t mean you were.”

“I’m sorry,” Juno said, reaching for Nureyev’s hand. “I should have said that first. I’m sorry, and I love you, and I think I might be ready now. I’m just sorry that it took so long.”  
Nureyev covered Juno’s hand with his own. “Are you sure?”

“Yes,” Juno said. “I’ve had a lot of time to think, these past few months. I told myself that I left you because I couldn’t leave Hyperion, but really I just didn’t think I deserved to have both, and this city is the one that I didn’t know how to live without. But I don’t really want to live without you either,” he paused to take another drink, partially for dramatic effect and partially because he wasn’t sure he could say what he wanted to say otherwise, “and I started thinking that maybe it’s not about what you deserve. Maybe the universe doesn’t give a shit about what you do, or what you’ve done, and if you wait for the universe to give you want you want you’re never gonna get it. And it’s not because you shouldn’t have it, it’s just because you have to make it happen for yourself.” He paused again, frowning. “ _It_ being happiness,” he said, “in case that wasn’t clear.”

“I see,” Nureyev said.

“You’re part of my happiness,” said Juno, who was on a roll now. “And Hyperion is who I am, so I can’t leave permanently, but I was thinking, it might not be so bad to take a vacation every now and then.”

“Why, Juno,” Nureyev said, “that was positively poetic.”  
“Thanks,” Juno said, “I’ve been rehearsing it.”

Nureyev laughed, and then Juno was laughing, and they didn’t let go of each other’s hands. “So does this mean I finally get to show you the stars?”

“Yeah,” Juno said. “I guess it does. As long as you promise to bring me back.”

“I’m sure I can manage that,” he said. “You might even convince me to stay a little while. Not all the time, of course, but it might be nice to have somewhere to come back to.”

“Yeah,” Juno said. “That doesn’t sound too bad.”

“No,” Nureyev agreed. “It doesn’t sound too bad at all.”

\---

 

**Six Months Later**

 

“Dammit, Nureyev,” Juno said. “Are you ever going to use the front door like a respectable person? I gave you that key for a reason.”

“But I’m not respectable,” he said, leaning in to kiss Juno on the cheek. “And besides, I thought you liked it when I showed off.”

“It’s not showing off if you’ve done it before, and we both know my bedroom window isn’t high enough or secure enough to be a challenge.” The latter was an old argument with both Nureyev and Rita. Rita thought he should move into a nicer place, in a nicer part of town, with a nicer security system, since saving Hyperion City from a corrupt mayor with overly ambitious ideas about cleaning up crime had made him both wealthy and popular enough to live anywhere he wanted. But he liked this place, as shitty as it was, because it was his, and the only reason he cared about being seen as some kind of hero was that it got all the charges against him and Nureyev dropped, out of gratitude for preventing Hyperion City from descending into more chaos than usual.

“Look at the welcome I get,” said Nureyev, arms crossed, trying to maintain an offended pout that threatened to dissolve into laughter at any moment. “I traveled all this way to see you, and you’re not even impressed.”

“Welcome home, Peter,” said Juno, leaning up on his toes to kiss him lightly on the lips. “And I’ll be impressed when you show me something impressive.”

“So that’s how it is,” said Nureyev, flashing his teeth, and Juno felt himself blush.

“Later,” he said. “Rita’s over. It’s movie night. Hope you like popcorn and historically inaccurate rom-coms.”

“Two of my favorite things,” said Nureyev.

“Good,” Juno said. “Rita? We’ve got company!”

Rita popped into the doorway, bowl of popcorn in one hand and a butter knife in the other. “Where are they? Who do I need to fight?”

“Not that kind of company, Rita. I was speaking literally.”

She lowered the butter knife, looking slightly disappointed. “Aw, come on, boss. You gotta be more specific, or else you’ll get my hopes up for nothing.”

“Sorry for the letdown,” Nureyev said. “It’s just me.”

“Oh!” Rita’s look of disappointment vanished, and she threw her arms around Nureyev to pull him down into a very tight hug. “Welcome back, Rex. How was your trip?”

“You do know that’s not really his name, right?”

“Well, sure, but it’s the only one he’s told me so I’m gonna use it until he tells me otherwise. Besides, what else would I call him? Mister Juno’s Lover?”

“An excellent suggestion,” said Nureyev, while Juno put his head in his hands and regretted ever letting Rita and Nureyev become friends.

“How about we don’t,” he said, and then, trying to get the conversation back onto some kind of track, “Anyway, how was your trip? Was Io nice?”

“Cold, mostly,” Nureyev said. “But still beautiful. And the art galleries are to die for. I’ll take you someday, after they give up on their emergency security measures.”

“Emergency… what did you do?”

“Always so quick to jump to conclusions! I’ll have you know that not everything illegal is my fault,” Nureyev. “However, it might have something to do with the fact that I may have stolen the most expensive piece from the most prestigious gallery on the eve of the most highly anticipated auctions of the season.” He pulled a small square of canvas from under his jacket with a flourish and a shit-eating grin, and Rita gasped dramatically.

“Is that an original?” Rita said, hushed. “From the twenty-first century?”

“It is,” Nureyev said. “Juno, would you mind hanging on to it for me? Call it an early birthday present, and keep it somewhere reasonably out of sight. There are three very wealthy art collectors who each think they have the stolen original in their private collections.”

Juno sighed. Of course there were. He should never have expected anything else. “How about here? Across from my bed, so when I wake up, the first thing I do is see it and think of you?”

“You’re saying that I’m not already the first thing you think of? I’m hurt.”

“I’m sure you are,” Juno said mildly, reaching up to ruffle Nureyev’s hair and taking the painting from him with his other hand. When he had it stuck to the wall more or less straight, Juno put one arm around each of them and they all stood back to admire one of the most expensive paintings in the galaxy, a one-of-a-kind relic of a past civilization.

“Well,” Rita said, breaking the silence at last, “it sure is ugly.”

“I know,” said Juno happily. “Isn’t it great?”

**Author's Note:**

> Title from [Leave a Light On by Yellowcard](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=z352WALAIHA&index=5&list=PLCA7l64iBhk34DtrEE3x9A9xbHTOhWqle)  
> The funny thing about this fic is that I started writing it last October, before Angel of Brahma, and then I realized that most of the outline I had could still work, and then life happened and I didn't touch it again until February when I thought I'd try to finish it before Season 2 started and it became obsolete. Which didn't happen. And then there was no reunion in Kitty Cat Caper so I figured it's not obsolete yet. And then life happened again, and I got a new perspective on how certain characters might feel about certain canon events and had to add another scene and rewrite part of an old one. Because obviously the purpose of fic is personal emotional catharsis, and because I have excellent coping mechanisms.  
> Talk to me on [tumblr](bronanlynch.tumblr.com) and/or listen to my [beautifully emo fanmix](https://playmoss.com/en/bronanlynch/playlist/life-can-wait-one-night) so you can either cry with me or make fun of my music taste.


End file.
